Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose

Tag: practice

  • Poem: Returning to the Strings – Spoken Word and Text – 12/06/20

    Poem: Returning to the Strings – Spoken Word and Text – 12/06/20

    Spoken by Lauren M. Hancock.
    I feel inept,
my instrument
has not been touched
for months.
 
I blow aside the proverbial dust,
hold my violin up,
my fingers grasp it somewhat awkwardly,
how could I have allowed
my practice to lapse?
 
No excuses of being
too busy,
but rather lacking
the motivation
to allow my fingers
to become less lazy.
 
I try to drag the bow
across the strings,
skating sounds,
harsh tones,
this should not be how
the heart speaks.
 
I try an improvisation,
a fast, hindered passage
ensues,
 
no delicacy,
no tones so loving,
where are the docile tunes?
 
I am disappointed in myself,
if I had kept up the hard work
there would be less difficulty
for pleasing notes to be heard –
 
time to dedicate myself
to the hard work
once more.
 
But the recurring scales now,
with their tedious requirement,
because of my returned boredom
they will be ignored.
 
Best to explore,
regain my interest
in this beautiful wooden structure,
let it return as a dedicated pastime
my skills, will they shine bright?
When will they return?
 
With time, they will,
I am sure,
I will work arduously
at acquiring and fostering them again.
 
Soon enough, wonderful melodies
sing from the strings,
I sway with the rhythms,
the emotions,
the feelings,
 
though it took time
to return to a level of skill
acceptable for my high standards,
there’s always room for one
to progress even further.
 
© 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
Image by Walter Wellborn from Pixabay 
Music "I Don't Want To Do This Without You", by Midnight Feeler, from YouTube Library.

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  • Poem: The Path – 23/04/20

    Poem: The Path – 23/04/20

    Weariness, Weariness,
rests upon my head,
where cobwebs and stilted cogs lay well rested
in their beds,
the machinery’s movements have ceased,
Weariness allows me to take that break,
but behind the scenes I’m still ruminating,
I simply disguise it from him.
 
Aptitude, Aptitude,
once carefully measured with closely observed time,
makes me wonder now whether the path was worth
the efforts to propel me so far,
because what am I doing here with this life?
 
I know,
I know,
that intelligence comes in many forms,
not always those tested,
skills, handiwork,  
of Aptitude, many are assured.
 
Desire, Desire,
to be something more,
to perform something else,
to rise to the challenge and advance myself,
it is not only in the mind that Desire does seek,
a change,
a triumphant case,
in which I can alternatively speak.
 
Knowledge, Knowledge,
have I sucked you bone-dry from the pages
I have to tend to?
The parched paper with its annotations and highlighted markings
grins at me,
resonate reminders of hard work and times oh-so studious.
 
Whenever I am down on myself,
I simply need to glance at my words,
my interpretations,
the violin fingerings,
the sheet music’s markings,
 
and I understand that I have worked arduously
at several crafts,
and have returned to the original craft of my own.
 
Conclusions, Conclusions
are like cadences softly spoken,
the melodious cessations of my
quiet contemplation,
I’m not performing at Life so badly,
according to my efforts
I’m trying to better myself,
there is no need to sink, sink down,
to aim a tirade toward myself,
 
I am improving,
daily,
through the efforts of no one other than myself.  

© 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.  
Image by Jorge Guillen from Pixabay 

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